


It's All Fine

by beltainefaerie



Series: It's All Fine [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Kiss, First Time, Genderqueer Character, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson had no idea that Sherlock was an omega, but when they are trapped in a shipping container at just the wrong time, everything becomes unbearably clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I should add a tag for the internalized homophobia or transphobia in some of the thoughts and recollections of my characters, but I am not sure what to tag it. 
> 
> I would love to warn people ahead of time, to avoid triggers, I just don't know what the appropriate tags are.
> 
> Suggestions are welcome.

“Looks like we’ll have to wait for the Yard to find us,” John remarked. “They knew what leads we were following, so I am sure they can work out what happened. It shouldn’t be that long, right?”

Sherlock scoffed, more at the idea of having to wait on those ‘imbeciles’ to find them. He surely didn’t dispute the fact that waiting was exactly what they had to do. 

They both abandoned trying to use their phones, as neither had any signal whatsoever. They had spent the rest of the first hour trying to find a way out. After that, John had settled down to wait, and Sherlock settled a bit, too. But soon he had begun fidgeting and then pacing, a wild look creeping into his eyes. John was struck by how much they looked like the eyes of a captured enemy soldier. And the longer the were stuck, the more frantic Sherlock seemed to be. 

“Sherlock, I’ve never known you to be this distressed. We’ve been captured before. Sure, it’s inconvenient, but look around you.”

John gestured widely. After all they were just locked in a storage container. There were enough tiny cracks he could see light through, so they shouldn’t have any worry about air. The shipment they had been locked in with appeared to be going to market, flats of bottled drinks and packaged biscuits and crisps. “I know it’s not much to be getting on with in terms of nutrition, but the calories would keep us going if we are stuck here that long.”

Sherlock blew out an exasperated breath. “John, I am going into heat.”

“Heat? You... what?” John barked incredulously. “But you’re an alpha, you...” but before John could argue, there was no longer any doubt. John’s nostrils flared at the scent of Sherlock, his true scent, pure omega, filling the room. He clenched his jaw, fighting instinct, even as his cock began to thicken. Never mind that Sherlock always looked positively delectable no matter his presentation. 

Sherlock sounded utterly miserable as he explained, “I’ve been feeling it come on for hours, but we should have been safely back home. I still should have had time to manage something with the suppressants.” Sherlock’s voice was shaking as he managed, “Oh, John, I am so sorry.”

“You’re… but why, Sherlock? You clearly make yourself known as an alpha. Is that a professional choice? I know it can be hard for unbonded omegas to be as seriously regarded, but it seems like a lot of effort to…”

“John!” Sherlock interrupted sharply.

John looked up. He knew he shouldn’t be hurt. Sherlock snapped all the time when he was frustrated, but somehow it did sting. Maybe it was all the nights he had spent brooding over whether they could have made an alpha-alpha bond. It was rare and tricky, and not something John had ever, ever thought he needed to worry about. But Sherlock was different. Although apparently not as much as he would like people to believe. “You don’t have to explain, but I am only trying to understand.” John muttered.

All that time conflicted about Sherlock, and here he was, gorgeous, flushed, hands shaking with the effort to control himself. His clothes would be feeling too constricting, but Sherlock’s only concession had been to remove his coat. He had barely even adjusted his collar since. His self-control had always been impressive, but it was clear his resolve wouldn’t hold out much longer.

As Sherlock answered John’s question, his tone softened, “Alphas are taken more seriously, certainly. And it wouldn’t exactly do to find myself in heat while investigating. Inconvenient. And not all alphas are above their instincts. And I most decidedly never wanted to be owned, bonded, or” Sherlock shuddered, “bred. Can you imagine me with children?”

And in that moment, John could. Sherlock, holding a little cherub, all rosy cheeks and tousled curls, the same exquisite, expressive eyes. A picture of Sherlock in miniature. John shook his head to clear the vision. He had never wanted children either. Just the haze of hormones trying to override their logic with biology. No wonder Sherlock hated it. There was nothing logical or orderly in this. 

As a doctor, John knew rather well what Sherlock was going through. It didn’t make it any easier to watch. Well, watch and not help. Nearly every instinct within him telling him to go to Sherlock, to mate, to bond, to breed. But John had learned discipline from an early age. He was horrified by his peers, with their catcalling and even intimidation. He had witnessed alphas, sometimes even groups of them, following some poor unbonded omega who was unlucky enough to have gone into heat on the Tube. 

Taking a deep breath through his mouth, John tried to minimize the effects of the pheromones. It didn’t help much, his own becoming stronger in response. Simple biology. Unavoidable. John kept himself in check, actually backing away from Sherlock slightly. 

Sherlock had never shown interest in anyone, clearly wasn’t comfortable as an omega, hadn’t ever even gone into heat since John had lived there. 

Unless he did when John had gone on the symposium. Or when he sent him off to look into the boomerang case on his own. John blinked at the realisation. All Sherlock would have to do is schedule a few times a year to go off his suppressants when he knew he wouldn’t be discovered. 

Thinking, planning, careful restraint. Well, John was capable of that, too. He certainly wasn’t an animal, however intense the instincts might be. He could maneuver some pallets into a barrier if he needed to. If Sherlock wanted privacy. 

Though he very much hoped Sherlock wouldn’t.

John tried to stop thinking of it, but Sherlock should be touching himself by now. Of course he tried not to. Even if it weren’t for their peculiar situation, John wondered if he tried to wait. Just like pushing himself to the edges of hunger or exhaustion. Always trying to overcome biology. Sherlock shifted, hugging his knees to his chest

God, John wanted to touch him. To stroke their cocks together, to lap up the fluid that was currently making an obscene wet spot across the seat of Sherlock’s perfectly tailored trousers. To lay him bare and feel his tight heat. _Fuck._

John adjusted his own trousers as subtly as could be managed in the situation. 

“What do you need, Sherlock? You don’t have to go through this alone. I mean, I could help you through it,” he offered, cautiously. He hoped Sherlock wouldn’t be offended by the offer. Moreover, he longed for him to say yes.

Sherlock looked up uncertainly. “I’ve never…” He swallowed. “You would?”

“Yes!” John said, a bit too enthusiastically, and Sherlock looked almost alarmed. 

“And I promise not to bite.” John added, trying to reassure him.

“It’s just the pheromones. You don’t really want this,” Sherlock said. A simple declaration, not even bothering to frame it as an inquiry.

John blew out an exasperated breath. “Bloody hell, Sherlock. I’ve spent the last few months trying to work out if I was suddenly queer! I adore everything about you, you infuriating git. But you’ve never shown interest in anyone at all, so it didn’t seem worth pursuing. And now you are actually an omega and none of it bloody well matters, so can you please stop with the noble suffering?”

Sherlock paused for just a moment as though he might say something more, before he gave in and launched himself at John, nearly knocking him over with the force. He crushed their mouths together almost too violently to be called a kiss. John couldn’t get Sherlock’s trousers off fast enough. He had never felt anything like Sherlock squirming on his lap. They had pushed it too long and were tearing at one another’s clothes, needing to feel skin on skin, now. Perhaps there would be less frenzy another time. When they hadn’t spent so much time in an enclosed space, practically bathing in each others pheromones and trying to ignore it all.

Sherlock spread his legs wider, rubbing his wet hole against John’s straining cock. ‘Wait.” John panted, flipping Sherlock over, onto his back. 

Sherlock whimpered at the loss of contact. “I know what you need,” John said soothingly as he slipped two fingers into Sherlock’s dripping arse and rummaged in the pocket of his abandoned trousers with the other. “But we need this.” Holding up the condom so Sherlock could see. Sherlock groaned, but nodded. Of course they did.

John added a third finger, sliding in and out just a moment more, “You really should see yourself like this. Gorgeous.”

He relished actually having Sherlock here writhing and needy on his fingers and wondered what it would feel like to have Sherlock taking his hand. John practically growled at the thought, but knew that he couldn’t hold on long enough for that today. Withdrawing his fingers, he used them to slick his cock with Sherlock’s wetness before rolling the condom on. 

“Please, John...” Sherlock looked panicked again, needing John’s touch. He cried out, desperate for relief.

“I’m right here, Sherlock. I’ve got you.” John guided his cock to Sherlock’s entrance, lifting Sherlock’s legs and bracing them against his chest as he slid in. Sherlock felt impossibly hot and wet and perfect. He groaned in pleasure, driving into Sherlock with hard, fast strokes, so deep he could feel his already swelling knot pressing against the rim of Sherlock’s hole. 

“Yes, John.” Sherlock moaned, bucking up to meet his thrusts, begging with his whole being for John to take him _fasterharderdeeper_.

Sherlock sounded nearly anguished in his cries, as he implored John. He needed all of him, positively required that he be filled, stretched open. John steadied himself, sure now that Sherlock wanted what his body so desperately craved. He pressed gently down on Sherlock’s shoulders as he rocked forward, thrusting even deeper, his breath coming in ragged pants as the knot slid in. 

Already on the verge of climax, that was all Sherlock needed. He came, shuddering beneath John, and tightening around him. And John nearly followed right then. The pressure on the knot, the rhythmic pulsing around his engorged cock, binding them together, was almost too much, but John managed to ride him through it, murmuring soft encouragements. 

“That’s right, come for me. I have you, Sherlock. So good for me”

His thrusts became erratic, chasing his own climax with his jaw clenched against the instinct to bite, to mark, to claim. It was all over faster than he intended as his vision whited out with the intensity of their pleasure. He had had plenty of sex before, but nothing as utterly brilliant as this. 

Coming back to himself, John’s voice was low, still roughened with desire, as he said, “A bit slower next time, alright?” He smiled down at Sherlock, brushing a few damp curls from his lover’s forehead.

Sherlock hummed assent. “Next time,” he agree happily, positively nuzzling against John’s neck.

John trembled above him. Every tiny movement Sherlock made vibrated down to where they were still joined. He stroked his hands down Sherlock’s chest and thighs, savoring this closeness he never thought they could have.

\---  
Some hours later, sated for the moment, they lay dozing together in a tangled mess of clothing until they awoke to a loud metallic thump. 

The scents of mingled pheromones were thick even from outside the container. Banging on the door, Lestrade called out, “Hello?” When there wasn’t a discernible answer, he knocked again.

That time, Sherlock answered with a muffled groan.

“Sherlock? Are you in there? Is everything alright? I thought you were investigating. We couldn’t find you or John, or the suspect, so we traced your leads and ended up here.”

“The suspect escaped, but I know where she went. We’re fine. Just give me a moment.” Sherlock answered.

“You lot,” Lestrade gestured to the small team with him, “Back to the cars. The last thing I need is one of you going feral on me. Don’t come back without your mask.”

John and Sherlock hurriedly dressed. Sherlock’s great swirling coat covered the stain on his trousers perfectly well. They needed to get home before they were ready for another round. Which would be all too soon. In a different situation they surely would have already.

After a few moments, Lestrade shouted, “I’m going to open the door now.” He moved the pin and with a creak of metal against metal, the door slowly swung open. Looking from the consulting detective to his blogger and back again, his face asked the question he couldn’t form in words. _I thought you were both alphas, what the hell is going on?_ In the mingling of pheromones, Lestrade couldn’t actually sort who had been masking, but with all the omega scent around, something was clearly amiss. 

Sherlock could practically see the gears turning. Logical, but so far off _“Well, John always had been rather short for an alpha.”_ Had to tell him something, give Lestrade the intel he needed for his case, but throw him off deciphering anything further. And then home. Before this need became unbearable again. 

Sherlock spoke even more rapidly than usual, explaining, “We were tracking her. I thought she was going into heat and had tried to hide in here. Apparently she doused the container with synth heat, the kind that doctor’s prescribe to help aging pairs keep “that spark” alive in their marriage, I believe the commercials suggest. Unfortunately, her plan worked and she was able to lock us in here until you found us. The less mentioned about anything else, the better. Are we agreed, Lestrade? If so, I would be happy to let you know where I deduce she is actually hiding out now.”

“Pheromones can be overwhelming. Even synth. No shame in that. That’s why they sell ’em, yeah?” Lestrade coughed slightly, looking away. “You’re both safe and that’s good. Nothing else is important.” He looked up expectantly ”Where is she, then?”

Firing off the location and a few clues as to how he determined it before sweeping from the scene. They encountered a few of the team, in their pheromone masks on the way out, but no one stopped or questioned them. 

Sherlock paused at an unattended car, emerging with a triumphant grin and a small bulge under his coat. As soon as they were out of view, he tossed a mask to John and hailed a cab.


	2. Chapter 2

They were quiet on the ride home, Sherlock carefully staying on his side of the vehicle. 

John swallowed audibly and turned to look out the window. They both felt nothing short of ridiculous in these masks, but it wasn’t as if no one wore them and they _did_ work with the police, after all, where they were more common. The fact that they weren’t on police business at the moment shouldn’t be too worrisome. It wasn’t as though anyone else knew that. 

Sherlock could see John growing restless, but they were in public. _I’m always more reserved in public. He shouldn’t be alarmed yet._ But John’s powers of observation were growing and it was clear he knew something was wrong even before Sherlock dashed from the car, leaving John to pay and follow. 

_But I can’t help it._

Sherlock made it to his room, grabbed his medication and wrenched open the bottle, shaking out two pills and dry swallowing them. That should stop it. 

He had never missed like this before, but taking two was supposed to work. He locked the door and paused a moment, leaning against it before sliding to the floor. His throat hurt. He felt achy, open, and so _empty_ , but it would pass. Then they could talk. 

They had to talk.

He heard John’s steps on the stairs, down the hallway. John knocked. Of course he did. 

“Sherlock?

 _What can I say?_

Slipping deeper into his mind, Sherlock tried to find an answer, something useful or compelling. 

He should have told John, should have said everything, but John seemed so damn relieved that Sherlock was an omega. The hormones and their accompanying drives, Sherlock couldn’t fight it anymore. 

But he wasn’t an omega, not really. Not most of the time. Our make up is more than just chemicals and parts, not just the sum of biology.

_If you are attracted to alphas, why would you want to change anything?_

_You’ll just be a freak. Why mess with it?_

_You’re fine as you are._

_Why would you choose to be queer._

How many times had he heard it before he started masking? He couldn’t stand to hear such idiocy from John.

But if John could understand….

 

That’s what John had said. But maybe he should have. _I shouldn’t have encouraged John to…to let John think that it was suddenly uncomplicated._

_He’ll want things I can’t give him...won’t want things I’ll need…_

_But if he already wanted this even when he thought I was alpha? Maybe…_

John’s voice was louder,.“Sherlock, what is going on?” His insistent pounding at the door sent reverberations through the wood, shaking Sherlock out of his uncomfortable revery.

“John, we have to talk.”

“Yeah. That’s what I am bloody well trying to do.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “We aren’t thinking clearly right now.”

“I’ve still got this bloody mask on. How is that for clearing my head?” John shot back, distinctly irritated.

“John, it has been a long night. I’ll be out in a bit. I promise. Just let me get my bearings, all right.”

John’s resigned sigh was enough of a response.

“Make us some tea?” Sherlock suggested, but didn’t wait for an answer, walking to the bathroom instead.

He let the water run hot, reddening his skin as he scrubbed their mingled scents away. He tried to fight the tears as he wondered how things had gotten away from him. 

If he had just gone after her a moment sooner, if he hadn’t been tricked into thinking she had entered the container, if he had carried a spare dose with him in case. Thoughts chased themselves in his head and it was no use. Part of him wished he could just delete the whole incident.

But he didn’t think he could delete last night. John. John spread over him, his hard cock filling him. Sherlock shuddered, the memories too fresh and too vivid. This empty, aching feeling would fade and when it did it would be easier to process. Hormones muddling his well ordered thoughts. He continued berating himself for giving in to his ridiculous biology, for actually, in his foolish, useless sentiment caring what John thought. Whether John would still want…

He picked up the shower gel, infused with just enough pheromones that it left him with a lingering alpha scent. It wasn’t what he was feeling right now, but it was what John was used to. He used it, sparingly. Just a bit to feel back to normal. Well, what passed for feeling normal in his world.

He emerged from the shower, throwing on his blue dressing gown, only hesitating slightly before he unlocked the door. He would do this. Whatever happened would be fine. 

“John, you can take off the mask now.”

John swallowed and did as he was told, tossing it onto the kitchen table. He handed Sherlock a mug of tea, asking “So what is all this then?”

“John, I-”

“Sherlock, you storm the house and lock yourself away, had to shower before you could be near me. If I did something wrong, please tell me about it and we’ll work through it, alright?”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t?” he paused looking more frustrated than relieved, though both were fighting in his features, until at last he simply settled into confusion, “Then what the hell is wrong?”

“John, I am afraid in our state yesterday, I wasn’t entirely clear with you.”

“Things seemed pretty damn clear last night!”

“I’m not an omega.”

John looked at him skeptically.

“Okay, not just an omega.”

“You’re Sherlock. You aren’t just anything.” John muttered.

“I am serious. John, I gave you the wrong idea. The masking, the suppressants, all of it. It isn’t for a lark. It isn’t just to be taken more seriously. It isn’t just convenient. It is what I feel, almost all the time. And then sometimes I wake up and I know it is time to let biology win for a while. I have always planned it well, to be away from anyone. Last night was accidental, but that didn’t make it any less real. I just wouldn’t want you to expect anything about how I usually am to change.”

“Sherlock, I don’t care if you are an alpha, an omega, or some as yet uncategorized secondary gender that alternates in patterns only predicted by regular tea leaf readings beneath the bloody full moon. I love you and we should make a go of this.”

It may have been early for such declarations, but it was out before John could really think it through. He certainly wouldn’t deny that it was true. It was clearly too early for the visions of nesting and more sex as well, but that did nothing to stop his imagination. But who knew when that would happen now. Sherlock had clearly done something to stop the heat. Higher dose of whatever he usually took ought to have done it. John tried to keep his thoughts off of bonding. It seemed they were a long way from that. Last night had been so delightful and all John wanted was more. More of Sherlock, whatever that meant.

Sherlock blinked at him as though he was desperately trying to process what John said and simply couldn’t. 

“Sherlock?” John said, tenderly cupping his face. “Say something, please?”

“You… you don’t care?”

“No, Sherlock. Like I said last night, I have spent months trying to wrap my head around wanting you and what an alpha-alpha relationship might be like. So no, I don’t care. It sounds like it just means I get an omega some of the time too, right?” He smiled at Sherlock. “I might sound like I’m teasing, but I am not. Whatever this needs to be, we can figure it out, together.

“Together?”

“Yes, Sherlock. Unless...” John looked down, uncertainly. “Unless you are saying that you don’t want this. Which I could understand. I know last night wasn’t something you wanted to happen like that.”

Sherlock seemed to come out of his shock, really looking at John. He leaned forward and kissed him. “I’m out of my depth, here, John. I’ve never done this before, but I very much want to try. With you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to RJ, Merinda and Shelly who kindly looked this over and offered their support and suggestions.
> 
> My first foray into omegaverse and I am already messing with the rules. I hope that is ok!


End file.
